EUTHANASIA & CHRISTIAN

VISION

GILBERT MEILAENDER

EVERY TEACHER HAS PROBABLY EXPERIENCED, ALONG WITH COUNTLESS frus-

trations, moments in the classroom when something was said with perfect lu-
cidity. I still recall one such moment three years aga when I was teaching a
seminar dealing with ethical issues in death and dying. Knowing how difficult
it can be to get students to consider these problems from within religious per-
spectives, I decided to force the issue at the outset by assigning as the first
reading parts of those magnificent sections from Volume 111/4 of Kar! Barth's
Church Dogmatics in which he discusses "Respect for Life" and "The Protec-
tion of Life." I gave the students little waming in advance, preferring to let the
vigor and bombast of Barth' s style have whatever effect it might.
The students, I must say in retrospect, probably thought more kindly of Barth
(who had, after all, only written these sections) than of their teacher (who had
assigned them to be read). But they good-naturedly went about doing the as-
signment, and our seminar had a worthwhile discussion-with students criticiz-
ing Barth and, even, sometimes defending hirn. However, neither criticism nor
defense was really my goal. It was understanding-understanding of death and
dying within a perspective steeped in centuries of Christian life and thought-
that I was seeking. And at one moment, even in a moment of criticism, we
achieved that understanding.
One young woman in the class, seeking to explain why Barth puzzled her so,
put it quite simply: "What I really don 't like about hirn is that he seems to think
our lives are not our own." To which, after a moment of awed silence, I could
only respond: "If you begin to see that about Barth, even if it gets under your
skin and offends you deeply, then indeed you have begun to understand what
he is saying."
In his discussion of "The Protection of Life," and, in fact, within his specific
discussion of euthanasia, Barth notes many of the difficult questions we might
THOUGHT Vol. 57 No. 227 (December 1982)
466 THOUGHT
raise which seem to nudge us in the direction of approving euthanasia in certain
tormenting cases. And then, rejecting these "tempting questions ," he responds
with his own typical flair: "All honour to the well-meaning humanitarianism of
underlying motive! But the derivation is obviously from another book than that
which we have thus far consulted. ,,1 In this brief essay I want to think about
euthanasia not from the perspective of any "well-meaning humanitarianism"
but from within the parameters of Christian belief-though, as we will see, one
of the most important things to note is that, within those parameters, only what
is consonant with Christian belief can be truly humane. 2

THE PARADIGM CASE

Determining what really qualifies as euthanasia is no easy matter. Need the

person "euthanatized" be suffering terribly? Or, at least, be near death? Suppose
the person simply feels life is no longer worth living in a particular condition
which may be deeply dissatisfying though not filled with suffering? Suppose the
person's life is filled with suffering or seemingly devoid of meaning but he is
unable to request euthanasia (because of a comatose condition, senility, etc.)?
Or suppose the person is suffering greatly but steadfastly says he does not want
to die? Suppose the "euthanatizer's motive is not mercy but despair at the
continued burden of caring for the person-will that qualify?
The list of questions needing clarification is endless once we start down this
path. But I intend to get off the path at once by taking as our focus of attention
a kind of paradigm case of what must surely count as euthanasia. If we can
understand why this is morally wrong, much else will fall into place. James
Rachels has suggested that "the clearest possible case of euthanasia" would be
one having the following five features: 3
(1) The person is deliberately killed.
(2) The person would have died soon anyway.
(3) The person was suffering terrible pain.
(4) The person asked to be killed.
(5) The motive of the killing was mercy-to provide the person with as good
a death as possible under the circumstances.
Such a case is not simply "assisted suicide," since the case requires the
presence of great suffering, the imminence of death in any case, and a motive
of mercy. Furthermore, considering this sort of case sets aside arguments about
nonvoluntary and involuntary euthanasia and gives focus to our discussion. 4 If

lKarl Barth, Church Dogmatics, Vol. 111/4, ed. G.W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance (Edinburgh:
T. & T. Clark, 1961), p. 425.
21 will be exploring some of the moral issues involved in euthanasia without taking up legal
problems which also arise. 1 do not assurne any answer to the question, Should what is morally
wrong be legally prohibited?
3James Rachels, "Euthanasia," Malters 0/ Life and Death: New Introductory Essays in Moral
Philosophy, ed. Tom Regan (New York: Random House, 1980), p. 29.
4Nonvoluntary euthanasia occurs when the person euthanatized is in a condition which makes it
impossible for hirn to express a wish (e.g., senile, comatose). Involuntary euthanasia occurs when
the person euthanatized expresses adesire not to be killed but is nevertheless euthanatized.
CHRISTIAN VISION 467

this case of voluntary euthanasia is perrnissible, other cases mayaiso be (or may
not). If this case is itself morally wrong, we are less likely to be able to argue
for euthanasia in nonvoluntary and involuntary circumstances.

AlM AND RESULT

One way of arguing that the paradigm case of euthanasia is morally perrnis-
sible (perhaps even obligatory) is to claim that it does not differ in morally
relevant ways from other acts which most of us approve. Consider a patient
whose death is imminent, who is suffering terribly, and who may suddenly stop
breathing and require resuscitation. We may think it best not to resuscitate such
a person but simply to let hirn die. What could be the morally significant dif-
ference between such a "letting die" and simply giving this person alethal
injection which would have ended his life (and suffering) just as quickly? If it
is morally right not to prolong his dying when he ceases breathing for a few
moments, why is it morally wrong to kill hirn quickly and painlessly? Each act
responds to the fact that death is imminent and recognizes that terrible suffering
calls for relief. And the result in each case is the same: death.
In order to appreciate the important difference between these possibilities we
must distinguish what we aim at in our action from the result of the action. Or,
to paraphrase Charles Fried, we must distinguish between those actions which
we invest with the personal involvement of purpose and those which merely
"run through" our person. 5 This is a distinction which moral reflection can
scarcely get along without. For example, if we fail to distinguish between aim
and result we will be unable to see any difference between the self-sacrifice of
a martyr and the suicide of a person weary of life. The result is the same for
each: death. But the aim or purpose is quite different. Whereas the suicide aims
at his death, the martyr aims at faithfulness to God (or loyalty of some other
sort). Both martyr and suicide recognize in advance that the result of their choice
and act will be death. But the martyr does not aim at death.
This distinction between aim and result is also helpful in explaining the moral
difference between euthanatizing a suffering person near death and simply letting
such a person die. Suppose this patient were to stop breathing, we were to reject
the possibility of resuscitation, and then the person were suddenly to begin
breathing again. Would we, simply because we had been willing to let this
patient die, now proceed to smother hirn so that he would indeed die? Hardly.
And the fact that we would not indicates that we did not aim at his death (in
rejecting resuscitation), though his death could have been one result of what we
did aim at (namely, proper care for hirn in his dying). By contrast, if we
euthanatized such a person by giving hirn alethal injection, we would indeed
aim at his death; we would invest the act of aiming at his death with the personal
involvement of our purpose.
A rejoinder: It is possible to grant the distinction aim and result
while still claiming that euthanasia in our paradigm case wouId be perrnissible

SCharles Fried, Right and Wrong (Harvard University Press, 1978), p. 27.
468 THOUGHT
(or obligatory). It may be true that there is a difference between allowing a
patient to die and aiming at someone's death. But if the suffering of the dying.
person is truly intense and the person requests death, on what grounds could we
refuse to assist hirn? If we refuse on the grounds that it would be wrong for us
to aim at his death (which will certainly result soon anyway after more terrible
suffering), are we not saying that we are unwilling to do hirn a great good if
doing it requires that we dirty our hands in any way? To put the matter this way
makes it seem that our real concem is with our own moral rectitude, not with
the needs of the sufferer. It seems that we are so concemed about ourselves that
in our eagemess to narrow the scope of our moral responsibility we have lost
sight of the need and imperative to offer care.
This is, it should be obvious, what ethicists call a consequentialist rejoinder.
It suggests that the good results (relieving the suffering) are sufficiently weighty
to make the aim (of killing) morally permissible or obligatory. And, as far as
I can tell, this rejoinder has become increasingly persuasive to large numbers
of people.
Consequentialism may be described as that moral theory which holds that
from the fact that some state of affairs ought to be it follows that we ought to
do whatever is necessary to bring about that state of affairs. And, although
teleological theories of morality are very ancient, consequentialism as a full-
blown moral theory is traceable largely to Bentham and Mill in the late 18th
and early 19th centuries. To remember this is instructive, since it is not im-
plausible to suggest that such a moral theory would be most persuasive when
Christendom had, in large measure, ceased to be Christian. Those who know
themselves as creatures-not Creator-will recognize limits even upon their
obligation to do good. As creatures we are to do all the good we can, but this
means all the good we "morally can"-all the good we can within certain
limits. It may be that the Creator ought to do whatever is necessary to bring
about states of affairs which ought to be, but we stand under no such godlike
imperative. 6
One of the best ways to understand the remarkable appeal today of conse-
quentialism as a moral theory is to see it as an ethic for those who (a) remain
morally serious, but (b) have ceased to believe in a God whose providential care
will ultimately bring about whatever ought to be the case. If God is not there
to accomplish what ought to be the case, we are the most likely candidates to

6Cf. Joseph Butler, Dissertation "On the Nature of Virtue," appended to The Analogy 0/ Religion
Natural and Revealed. Morley's Universal Library edition (London: George Routledge & Sons,
1884), p. 301: "The fact then appears to be, that we are constituted so as to condemn falsehood,
unprovoked violence, injustice, and to approve of benevolence to some preferably to others ab-
stracted from all consideration, which conduct is likely to produce an overbalance of happiness or
misery; and therefore, were the Author of Nature to propose nothing to Himself as an end but the
production of happiness, were His moral character merely that of benevolence; yet ours is not so."
In other words, though the Creator may be a consequentialist, creatures are not! For a contrary
view, see Peter Geach, The Virtues (Cambridge University Press, 1977), pp. 95ff.
CHRISTIAN VISION 469

shoulder the burden of that responsibility. 7 Conversely, it may be that we can

make sense of distinguishing between two acts whose result is the same but
whose aim is different only if we believe that our responsibilities (as creatures)
are limited-that the responsibility for achieving certain results has been taken
out of our hands (or, better, never given us in the first place). It ought to be the
case that dying people not suffer terribly (indeed, that they not die). But, at
least for Christians, it does not follow from that "ought to be" that we "ought
to do" whatever is necessary-even euthanasia-to relieve them of that suffer-
ing. 8
We are now in a position to see something important about the argument
which claims that euthanasia (in the paradigm case) is permissible because it
does not differ morally from cases of "letting die" which most of us approve.
This argument often begins in a failure to distinguish aim and result; however,
it is, as we have seen, difficult for moral theory to get along without this
distinction. Seeing this, we recognize that the argument really becomes a claim
that if the results are sufficiently good, any aim necessary to achieve them is
permissible. And precisely at this turn in the argument it may be difficult to
keep "religion" and "morality" in those neat and separate compartments we
have fashioned for them. At this point one steeped in Christian thought and
committed to Christian life may wish to say with Barth: All honor to the well-

7Whether this enlargement of the scope of our responsibility really works is another matter. Being
responsible for everything may, for human beings, come quite close to being responsible for nothing.
Charles Fried comments: "If, as consequentialism holds, we were indeed equally morally respon-
sible for an infinite radiation of concentric circles originating from the center point of some action,
then while it might look as if we were enlarging the scope of human responsibility and thus the
significance of personality, the enlargement would be greater than we could support. . . . Total
undifferentiated responsibility is the correlative of the morally overwhelming, undifferentiated
plasma of happiness or pleasure" (Right and Wrong, pp. 34f.).
81t is a hard, perhaps unanswerable, question whether there might ever be exceptions to this
general standard for Christian conduct which I have enunciated. There might be a circumstance in
which the pain of the sufferer was so terrible and unconquerable that one would want to consider
an exception. To grant this possibility is not really to undermine the principle since, as Charles
Fried has noted, the "catastrophic" is a distinct moral concept, identifying an extreme situation in
which the usual mies of morality do not apply (Right and Wrong, p. 10). We would be quite
mistaken to build the whole of our morality on the basis of the catastrophic; in fact, it would then
become the norm rather than the exception. One possible way to deal with such extreme circum-
stances without simply lapsing into consequentialism is to reason in a way analogous to Michael
Walzer's reasoning about the mies of war in Just and Unjust Wars (New York: Basic Books, Inc.,
1977). Walzer maintains that the mies of war are binding even when they put us at a disadvantage ,
even when they may cost us victory. But he grants that there might be "extreme emergencies" in
which we could break the mies; namely, when doing so was (a) morally necessary (Le., the opponent
was so evil-a Hitler-that it was morally imperative to defeat hirn) and (b) strategically necessary
(no other way than violating the mies of war was available for defeating this opponent). Reasoning
in an analogous way we might wonder whether the mle prohibiting euthanasia could be violated if
(a) the suffering was so unbearable that the sufferer lost all capacity to bear that suffering with any
sense of moral purpose or faithfulness to God; and (b) the pain was truly unconquerable. Whether
such extreme circumstances ever occur is a question whose answer I cannot give. And even if such
circumstances are possible, I remain uncertain about the force of this "thought experiment," which
is offered tentatively.
470 THOUGHT
meaning humanitarianism-and it is well-meaning. But the derivation-fit only
for those who would, even if reluctantly, be "like God" -is obviously "derived
from another book" than that which Christians are wont to consult.

AlM AND MOTIVE

If the distinction between aim and result makes it difficult to justify euthanasia
in the paradigm case, another distinction may be more useful. We might suggest
that the act of euthanatizing be redescribed in terms of the motive of mercy.
We could describe the act not as killing but as relieving suffering. Or, rather
than engaging in such wholesale redescription of the act, we might simply argue
that our moral evaluation of the act cannot depend solelyon its aim but must
also consider its motive.
Consider the following illustration. 9 A condemned prisoner is in his cell only
minutes before his scheduled execution. As he sits in fear and anguish, certain
of his doom, another man who has managed to sneak into the prison shoots and
kills hirn. This man is either (a) the father of children murdered by the prisoner,
or (b) a close friend of the prisoner. In case (a) he shoots because he will not
be satisfied simply to have the man executed. He desires that his own hand
should bring about the prisoner's death. In case (b) the friend shoots because
he wishes to spare his friend the terror and anguish of those last minutes, to
deliver hirn from the indignity of the sheer animal fright he is undergoing.
Would it be proper to describe the father's act in (a) as an act of killing and
the friend' s in (b) as an act of relieving suffering? Although many people may
be tempted to do so, it muddies rather than clarifies our analysis. If anything is
clear in these cases, it is that both the vengeful father and the compassionate
friend aim to kill though their motives are very different. Only by refusing to
redescribe the aim of the act in terms of its motive do we keep the moral issue
clearly before us. That issue is whether our moral evaluation of the act should
depend solelyon the agent' s aim or whether that evaluation must also include
the motive.
That the motive makes some difference almost everyone would agree. Few
of us would be content to analyze the two cases simply as instances of "aiming
to kill" without considering the quite different motives. The important question,
however, is whether the praiseworthy motive of relieving suffering should so
dominate our moral reflection that it leads us to term the act 'right.' I want to
suggest that it should not, at least not within the parameters of Christian belief.
One might think that Christian emphasis on the overriding importance of love
as a motive would suggest that whatever was done out of love was right. And,
to be sure, Christians will often talk this way. Such talk, however, must be
done against the background assumptions of Christian anthropology. Apart from

9r"fhis illustration is "inspired" by a different set of hypothetical cases offered by Paul Ramsey
in "Some Rejoinders," The Journal 0/ Religious Ethics, 4 (Fall, 1976), p. 204.
CHRISTIAN VISION 471

that background of meaning we may doubt whether we have really understood

the motive of love correctly. We need therefore to sketch in the background
against which we can properly understand what loving care for a suffering person
should be. IO
Barth writes that human life "must always be regarded as a divine act of
trust. ,,11 This means that all human life is "surrounded by a particular solem-
nity," which, if recognized, will lead us to "treat it with respect." At the same
time, however, "life is no second God, and therefore the respect due to it cannot
riyal the reverence owed to God." One who knows this will seek to live life
"within its appointed limits. " Recognizing our life as a trust, we will be moved
not by an "absolute will to live" but a will to live within these limits. Hence,
when we understand ourselves as creatures, we will both value God's gift of
life and recognize that the Giver himself constitutes the limit beyond which we
ought not value the gift. "Temporallife is certainly not the highest of all goods.
Just because it belongs to God, man may be forbidden to will its continuation
at all costs." And at the same time, "if life is not the highest possession, then
it is at least the highest and all-inclusive price" which human beings can pay.
In short, life is a great good, but not the greatest (which is fidelity to God).
Death, the final enemy of life, must also be understood dialectically. The
human mind can take and has quite naturally taken two equally plausible atti-
tudes toward death. 12 We can regard death as of no consequence, heeding the
Epicurean maxim that while we are alive death is not yet here, and when death
is here we are no more. Thus the human being, in a majestic transcendence of
the limits of earthly life, might seek to soar beyond the limits of finitude and
find his good elsewhere. If death is of no consequence, we may seek it in
exchange for some important good. Equally natural to the human mind is a
seemingly opposite view-that death is the summum malum, the greatest evil
to be avoided at all costs. Such a view, finding good only in earthly life, can
find none in suffering and death.
The Christian mind, however, transcending what is "natural" and correcting
it in light of the book it is accustomed to consult, has refused to take either of
these quite plausible directions. Understood within the biblical narrative, death
is an ambivalent phenomenon-too ambivalent to be seen only as the greatest
of all evils, or as indifferent. Since the world narrated by the Bible begins in
God and moves toward God, earthly life is his trust to be sustained faithfully
and his gift to be valued and cared for. When life is seen from this perspective,
we cannot say that death and suffering are of no consequence; on the contrary,
we can even say with Barth that the human task in the face of suffering and

lOJn what follows I draw upon my own fonnulations in two previous articles: "The Distinction
Between Killing and Allowing to Die," Theological Studies, 37 (September, 1976),467-470 and
"Lutheran Theology and Bioethics: A Juxtaposition," SPC Journal, 3 (1980), 25-30.
IlThe passages cited in this paragraph may be found scattered throughout pages 336-342 and
pages 401-402 of Vol. 111/4 of Church Dogmatics.
12For what follows cf. C.S. Lewis, Miracles (New York: Macmillan, 1947), pp. 129ff., and Paul
Ramsey, The Patient as Person (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1970), pp. 144ff.
472 THOUGHT
death is not to accept but to offer' 'final resistance." 13 It is just as true, however,
that death could never be the greatest evil. That tide must be reserved for
disobedience to and disbelief in God-a refusal to live within our appointed
limits. So we can also repeat with Barth that "life is no second God." 14 We
remember, after all, that Jesus goes to the cross in the name of obedience to his
Father. We need not glorify or seek suffering, but we must be struck by the fact
that a human being who is a willing sufferer stands squarely in the center of
Christian piety. Jesus bears his suffering not because it is desirable but because
the Father allots it to hirn within the limits of his earthly life. Death is-there
is no way to put the matter simply-a great evil which God can turn to his good
purposes. It is an evil which must ordinarily be resisted but which must also at
some point be acknowledged. We can and ought to acknowledge what we do
not and ought not seek. George Orwell, himself an "outsider," nicely sum-
marized these background assumptions of Christian anthropology:

The Christian attitude towards death is not that it is something to be welcomed, or that
it is something to be met with stoical indifference, or that it is something to be avoided
as long as possible; but that it is something profoundly tragic which has to be gone
through with. A Christian, I suppose, if he were offered the chance of everlasting life
on this earth would refuse it, but he would still feel that death is profoundly sad. 15

This vision of the world, and of the meaning of life and death, has within
Christendom given guidance to those reflecting on human suffering and dying.
That moral guidance has amounted to the twofold proposition that, though we
might properly cease to oppose death while aiming at other choiceworthy goods
in life (hence, the possibility of martyrdom), we ought never aim at death as
either our end or our means.
Against this background of belief we can better understand what love and
care must be within a world construed in Christian terms. In this world no
action which deliberately hastens death can be called 'love.' Not because the
euthanatizer need have any evil motive. Indeed, as the case of the compassionate
friend makes clear, the one who hastens death may seem to have a praiseworthy
motive. Rather, such action cannot be loving because it cannot be part of the
meaning of commitment to the well-being of another human being within the
appointed limits of earthly life. The benevolence of the euthanatizer is enough
like love to give us pause, to tempt us to call it love. And perhaps it may even
be the closest those who feel themselves to bear full responsibility for relief of
suffering and production of good in our world can come to love. But it is not
the creaturely love which Christians praise, a love which can sometimes do no
more than suffer as best we can with the sufferer.

13Church Dogmatics, II1/4, p. 368.

14/bid., p. 342.
lSGeorge Orwell, "The Meaning of a Poem," My Country Right or Lelt, 1940-1943. Volume
II of The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters 01 George Orwell, ed. Sonia Orwell & lan
Angus (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1968), p. 133.
CHRISTIAN VISION 473
CHRISTIAN LOVE ENACTED AND INCULCATED

Against this background-a background which pours meaning into words like
'love' and 'care'-we can contemplate the kind of case often considered in
discussions of euthanasia. 16 A person may be in severe pain, certain to die
within only a few days. Most of us would agree that further "lifesaving" treat-
ments were not in order for such aperson, that they would do no more than
prolong his dying. Why, one may ask, do we not subject such a patient to
useless treatments? Because, we reply, he is in agony and it would be wrong
to prolong that agony needlessly. But now, if we face the facts honestly, we
will admit that it takes this patient longer to die-and prolongs his suffering-
if we simply withhold treatment than if we euthanatize hirn. Hence, there seems
to be a contradiction within our reasoning. The motive for withholding treatment
was a humanitarian one: relief of suffering. But in refusing to take the next step
and euthanatize the patient we prolong his suffering and, thereby, belie our
original motive. Hence the conclusion follows, quite contrary to the moral guid-
ance embedded in the Christian vision of the world: Either we should keep this
person alive as long as possible (and not pretend that our motive is the relief of
suffering), or we should be willing to euthanatize hirn.
The argument gets much of its force from the seeming simplicity of the
dilemma, but that simplicity is misleading. For, at least for Christian vision, the
fundamental imperative is not "minimize suffering" but "maximize love and
care. " In that Christian world, in which death and suffering are great evils but
not the greatest evil, love can never include in its meaning hastening a fellow
human being toward (the evil of) death, nor can it mean a refusal to acknowledge
death when it comes (as an evil but not the greatest evil). We can only know
what the imperative "maximize love" means if we understand it against the
background assumptions which make intelligible for Christians words like 'love'
and 'care. ' The Christian mind has certainly not recommended that we seek
suffering or call it an unqualified good, but it is an evil which, when endured
faithfully, can be redemptive. William May has noted how parents in our time
think that love for their children means, above all else, protecting those children
from suffering. "As conscientious parents, they operate as though the powers
that are decisive in the universe could not possibly do anything in and through
the suffering of their children. . . . They take upon themselves the responsi-
bilities of a savior-figure. . . ." 17 May sees clearly that "minimize suffering"
and "maximize love" are not identical imperatives and do not offer the same
direction for human action. Perhaps the direction they give may often be the
same, but at times--especially when we consider what it is proper to do for the
irretrievably dying-we will discover how sharply they may differ.

16For a strong statement of such a case see James Rachels, "Active and Passive Euthanasia, "
New England Journal of Medicine, 292 (1975), pp. 78-80.
17William May, "The Metaphysical Plight of the Family," Death Inside Out, ed. Peter Steinfels
and Robert M. Veatch (Harper & Row, 1974), p. 51.
474 THOUGHT

I suggested above that we should not redescribe the aim of an act in terms of
its motive. (We should not say that an act of killing a suffering person was
simply an act of relieving suffering. We should say rather that we aimed at the
death of the person in order to relieve his suffering. This keeps the moral issue
more clearly before us.) But by now it will be evident that I have in fact gone
some way toward redescribing the motive of the act in terms of its aim. (If the
act is aimed at hastening the death of the suffering person, we should not see
it as motivated by love.) Is this any better? The answer, I think, is "it depends."
It would not be better, it might even be worse, if my purpose were to deny
any humanitarian motive to the person tempted to euthanatize a sufferer. Few
people would find such a denial persuasive, and because we would not we are
tempted to turn in the opposite direction and describe the act' s aim in terms of
its motive. We do recognize a difference between the vengeful father and the
compassionate friend even though both aim to kill the condemned prisoner, and
we want our moral judgments to be sufficiently nuanced to take account of these
differences. The simple truth is that our evaluation of the act (described in terms
of aim) and our evaluation of the act (described in terms of motive) often fall
apart. In a world broken by sin and its consequences this should perhaps come
as no surprise. Christians believe that we sinners-all of us-are not whole,
and many of the stubborn problems of systematic ethical reflection testify to the
truth of that belief. It is our lack of wholeness which is displayed in our inability
to arrive at one judgment (or even one description) "whoie and entire" of a
single act. We find ourselves in a world in which people may sometimes seem
to aim at doing evil from the best of motives (and think they must do so). And
then we are tempted to elide aim and motive and call that evil at which they
aim 'good.'
No amount of ethical reflection can heal this rift in our nature. Prom that
predicament we will have to look for a deliverance greater than ethics can offer.
However, here and now, in our broken world, we do better to take the aim of
an act as our guiding light in describing and evaluating the act-and then eval-
uate the motive in light of this aim. This is better because moral reflection is
not primarily a tool for fixing guilt and responsibility (in which case motive
comes to the fore). It is, first and foremost, one of the ways in which we train
ourselves and others to see the world rightly. We would be wrong to assert that
no euthanatizer has or can have a humanitarian motive. But if we want not so
much to fix praise or blame but to teach the meaning of the word 'love,' we are
not wrong to say that love could never euthanatize. In the Christian world this
is true. And in that world we know the right name for our own tendency to call
those other, seemingly humanitarian, motives 'love.' The name for that tendency
is temptation. We are being tempted to be "like God" when we toy with the
possibility of defining our love-and the meaning of humanity-apart from the
appointed limits of human life.
To redescribe the motive in terms of the act's aim, to attempt to inculcate a
vision of the world in which love could never euthanatize, is therefore not only
CHRISTIAN VISION 475
permissible but necessary for Christians . It is the only proper way to respond
to the supposed dilemmas we are confronted with by reasoning which brackets
Christian background assumptions from the outset. The Christian moral stance
which emerges here is not a club with which to beat over the head those who
disagree. It does not provide a superior vantage point from which to deny them
any humanitarian motive in the ordinary sense. But it is avision of what 'hu-
manity' and 'humanitarian motives' should be. We may therefore say of those
who disagree: "All honour to the well-meaning humanitarianism of underlying
motive! But the derivation is obviously from another book than that which we
have thus far consulted. "